


A Waking Nightmare

by Artphyxia



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 7 years later, Adult!Dipper, Aged-Up Character(s), Comfort, Human!Bill, M/M, Romance, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-16 12:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13636575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artphyxia/pseuds/Artphyxia
Summary: 7 years after Weirdmageddon, Dipper returns to Gravity Falls.Plagued by nightmares and a weird sense of foreboding, he can't shake the feeling that he's somehow missed something. Bill is gone. He has to be. They had made sure of that.But when the border of nightmares and reality begins to blend, Dipper realizes that perhaps their plans to thwart Bill wasn't as effective as they originally thought.And, boy, is he in for a rude awakening.





	1. Return to Gravity Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to rewatch Gravity falls and got inspired!
> 
> Damn, I sure wish there were more seasons... so much potential!
> 
> This is the only way to give myself some closure.
> 
> (I'm not crying, you're crying!)

Chapter 1

Return to Gravity Falls

* * *

 

Dipper allowed himself a smile as he hopped off the bus. It felt weird, being back. A good kind of weird. Annnd a little bad weird. Their last summer in Gravity Falls may have ended well, with plenty of good memories, but with the good comes the bad to balance it out… he still had nightmares about their encounter with a certain chaos demon. Geez, it had been a long time.

The plan had been to return summers ago, but their parents had… other plans. After the unexpected announcement of their divorce, Dipper and Mable had been moving back and forth, spending their summers with their dad on the other side of the country. Then the time came to choose colleges, and with it the inevitable reality that the twins would finally have to live apart from each other. To stand on their own.

Mable had chosen to take up art—not really a shocker—she now had access to however much glitter she wanted. He laughed under his breath at the thought. He had missed her silliness, more than he would ever admit to her face. He hadn’t seen her much since they had moved out. Only for the holidays and the occasional weekend off in-between.

He walked the dirt path to the Mystery Shack, thinking back on that last summer of childhood. So much had changed since then. Dipper had grown much taller, for starters! _Try making fun of me now, sis!_ He’d even gotten over his childhood crush, Wendy, and been out on his first proper date. Mable would be so proud to hear it. Granted, it hadn’t worked out, but it had to count for something, right? Apparently, he just couldn’t figure out how to act around girls no matter how much he aged. Maybe he was cursed, or something.

The Mystery Shack had changed too. No major changes, just less holes and crooked boards. Grunkle Stan sat on the porch, cracking open a can of soda.

“Hey, kid,” he grumbled. “Running away from college bullies, are you?”

“Grunkle Stan? What are you doing here? I thought you were on some world-wide exploration tour with Ford.”

“Well… that was seven years ago. There’s only so much world you can see.”

“You and Ford had a falling out, didn’t you?” Dipper said, putting his hands on his hips.

Grunkle Stan muttered something incoherent and sipped on his soda.

“Where’s Soos?”

“I gave him some time off to be with his grandma. She’s sick.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, well—that’s what happens when you mistake soap for dressing.”

Dipper frowned. “So, you’re filling in while he’s gone?”

“Kinda. I’m in charge again. So don’t go getting any ideas about better working conditions!”

“Dipper?” came a voice from the yard.

Dipper turned away from Grunkle Stan to face his sister, who had paused from pushing around a wheelbarrow full of leaves.

He gave a small wave. “Hi, sis!”

She dropped the wheelbarrow and came running towards him. “Dipper!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a bone-crushing sibling hug. “You’re finally here!”

“Yeah… hey, could you… I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Mable laughed, stepping back to punch him in the arm. “Oh, bro-bro—you really haven’t changed, have you? Still the same old Dipper! I mean, look at those noodle arms.”

She looked different. She’d cut her hair to a bob. It suited her—she looked more mature. There was still that touch of Mable, though, with a bright pink streak and a shooting star clip to hold it in place.

“I work out,” he retorted. “I lift books. That’s something. And look—I’m taller than you now.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Barely.”

“How have you been, Mable?”

“Oh, you know—painting, daydreaming about boys, the usual! I have a boyfriend now! And not like you’re assuming! Like, an actual boyfriend. No more fleeting paranormal romances for me, oh no siree.”

“Wow, congratulations. How long?”

“Two months,” she shrugged. “We’re still getting to know each other.”

“And he doesn’t mind you spending the summer break here?”

“Well, he doesn’t really have a say—nothing’s gonna keep me from a summer hunting down mysteries with my brother! It’s been ages!”

“Yeah," Dipper said, a smile tugging at his lips. "I missed you.”

“And that’s my cue,” Grunkle Stan said suddenly, standing up. “All this sibling sappiness is giving me rashes.”

“Aw, come on, Grunkle Stan,” said Mable, “Aren’t you happy to have us back?”

“Sure—as long as you help out around the shack.” He walked back inside.

“Don’t mind him," Mable said. "He’s just grumpy because Soos forgot to record his favourite shows while he was away.”

“I don’t think that’s why,” Dipper said, but Mable was already skipping away. Her attention span hadn’t changed a bit. The only time she was properly focused was either connected to boys or cute animals.

He headed upstairs to their shared room, smiling as he saw that Mable had already made herself at home. Her bed was littered with cutesy drawings and stuffed animals.

_It’s good to be back,_ he thought, dropping his bags down on his bed. He unpacked the necessities, then put his bags on the floor. He glanced to the window, the view of a clear sky obscured by the slightly tinted glass. How many times had they replaced that window? The sunlight highlighted a bright triangle shape on the wooden floor, and Dipper froze.

He stared at it for a long time, half-expecting it to come to life. For reality to fall away into grey-scale and white noise. He waited with bated breath to hear that voice sing out through the void, for laughter to bounce off the walls as multiple clones of that shape surrounded him. But nothing happened: the shape remained static, the room warm and colourful. He snapped out of it, reminding himself that it was over.

Bill was gone. For good.

They’d made sure of that.

So, why did he feel so uneasy?

Why did he feel like they might have missed something?

Bill was resourceful. More than that, he was old. Ridiculously old. Like, eons or something. He was smart, always playing at some hidden agenda—knowing just how to spin things around to his advantage. Such a powerful being had to have had some back-up plan, right? Just in case.

That’s what Dipper would have done. The way it had ended didn't sit right with him.

Bill was smarter than that. Smarter than Dipper. Of course he would’ve thought of something, some loophole in case all else failed.

Dipper swallowed, a chill snaking down his back.

What if, maybe, just maybe he was—

_No. Stop_ , he reprimanded himself. _It’s over, Dipper. You know this. He’s gone._

“He’s gone,” he repeated out loud. _We won. There’s even proof._

_If it’s still there._

What was he thinking? Of course it was. Stone didn’t just walk off and disappear.

One way to find out, he supposed, the thought stirring nervous bubbles in his stomach.

He cast one last glance at the triangle shape on the floor and then headed back downstairs.

Grunkle Stan was slouching in the armchair, watching re-runs of some reality show. He quickly switched channels as Dipper walked past, pretending to be absorbed in a documentary about penguins.

Mable was in the kitchen, cooking up pasta. He could ask her to come with him. It would feel safer to have someone by his side, but then… she’d think he was being paranoid. They all would, and why wouldn’t they? They’d moved on, while Dipper was still stuck on that same summer, going over the details over and over again until the smallest things seemed like crucial clues that he’d somehow missed.

He sighed, deciding to face his fears alone. He was just going out there to confirm what he already knew—that Bill was permanently out of their lives. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

He found the statue where they’d left it. Parts of it was covered in moss, and the years of being exposed to the elements had left small cracks in the façade. It felt weird, standing at the grave of an ancient demon. Seeing the statue like this, illuminated by the golden sunlight, its shape seemed far less imposing than he would have expected. It still gave him shivers though.

He especially didn’t like the way Bill’s eye was open, staring at him.

“Well, you’re still here…so. Guess I am being a bit paranoid. Okay, uh, great. Now I know, so… I guess I’m gonna go. Leave you to it.”

“Who are you talking to?” Mabel’s voice cut in.

Dipper flinched. “Mabel! What are you doing?”

“Duh. Following you. You’ve been acting a little coco, bro. As a sister, it’s my job to find out what you’re up to.” Her attention turned to Bill. “Huh. Would you look at that—the years haven’t been kind, have they? You’re looking a little green. Green of envy!” She laughed. “Because you’re a statue and we’re not!”

Dipper envied how easily life had gone back to normal for her. She didn’t spend her nights twisting and turning, reliving the horrors of Bill’s evil plans. Coming back here, to Gravity Falls, had been hard. It was definitely worth it, but just the thought of coming back to where it all had happened had made his stomach turn over with dread. But he was here now, and he was still safe. They were all safe.

“You okay, Dipper?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m, I’m fine.”

“Come on, Dipper. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just… It’s gonna sound stupid.”

Mable gave him a reassuring smile, shaking her head. “You’re never stupid, Dipper. You’re the smartest guy I know.”

Dipper rubbed his arm, then sighed. “Fine, just try not to laugh too hard, okay?”

She made a show of zipping her mouth shut.

He took a moment, thinking of how to describe it. “I…I have nightmares. About what happened last time. The whole end-of-the-world thing. I don’t know, lately I’ve started thinking a lot and I can’t wrap my mind around a few things. I came out here to put my worries to rest.”

“You… have nightmares? Still? Why didn’t you tell me? It's been seven years, Dipper.”

“I wanted to, I mean, I should have. I just thought that—“

“I’d make fun of you? Dipper. I’d never make fun of you for that! We went through something traumatic—it’s not weird that you’d feel scared coming back here. It’s not.” She patted him on the shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, bro. You just need time to manage. I hear these things can take a lot of time—and you kinda have to let it run its course. It’ll sort itself out eventually." 

“I guess,” Dipper sighed. “Sorry, you know, for not telling you earlier.”

“No worries. It’s not like I didn’t know. I just figured you needed some space to deal with it by yourself. That was… probably not what I should’ve done.”

“Nah, you were right, Mabel. Had you approached me before I would probably have denied it anyway. I’m glad I told you. You’re acting so mature about this—what happened to you?”

She shrugged. “I grew up, we both did. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make fun of you when you lose though!”

“Lose what?”

“Last back to the shed has to wear the other’s underwear!”

Off she went, laughing as she ran the way she'd come, and Dipper couldn’t help but laugh with her. He felt better, getting all of those thoughts off his chest. For the first time, he actually dared hope that all of these horrible feelings would go away. That he’d be all right.

_Thanks, Mabel._

 He glanced at Bill's statue.

_We're safe now. There is no way Bill's coming back from that._

With nenewed reassurance, he set off after his sister.

 

He should have known better than to jinx it.


	2. The World Which Only You Can See - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When nightmares and reality begin to blend, Dipper begins to question whether Bill is actually gone for real or not...
> 
> Part 1

**A Waking Nightmare**

**The World Which Only You Can See**

**Part One**

* * *

 Dipper was trapped. He kicked and thrashed to get loose, but his leg was stuck under the debris of a house blown to bits. Mable was lying unconscious and pallid paces away, out of his reach. A sickening amount of blood pooled under her head, soaking into her hair and her pink sweatshirt. The sky above them was dark red, painting the ruins of Gravity Falls in hard-drawn shadows and crimson streets. The ground rumbled with sadistic laughter, seeping up from the cracks in the asphalt and shaking the foundations of the town with its malicious triumph.

_Hell. This is Hell._

This was the world Bill had almost created. The chaos and wreckage they’d prevented. And now it was happening all over again! Only this time, Dipper was alone in the fight.

_This isn’t happening!_

He twisted and writhed, pulling at his leg. Rocks and glass shards bit into his skin, drawing long lines of blood as he desperately clawed his way backwards. The pain didn’t matter. He didn’t care if he had to crawl—Mable needed him. He called out to her, to Stan, to Ford, to anyone else he could think of. Nobody listened, nobody heard. The edges of the world fell away into darkness, terrified shrieks sounding from where the shadows touched.

“Mable! Mable, please! You have to wake up!” he shouted.

With another yank, the rocks came lose and he was free. He ran for his sister, ignoring the pain shooting up the side of his leg. He reached out to her and—

She disintegrated into ash.

“Mable!” he cried, his hand suspended over the place where she’d been—was supposed to be. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes. He had failed her. Failed all of them.

The entire world plunged into the void, the town, people—everything he cared about—gone.

He clenched his fists. “Bill! Come out, you son of a bitch!”

Laughter resonated around him, a disembodied yellow eye opening to peer at him. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Pine Tree! Looks like the sprout became a tree, at last. You’ve grown a few inches since last I saw you in person.”

A chill ran down Dipper’s arms.  _It’s a dream_ , he reminded himself. This was just another one of his nightmares, of Bill taunting him with his fears and ridiculing his insecurities. He took a calming breath, willing the world around them to life again. The darkness bled away into colour and warmth. He was back in the attic.

_This is my mindscape. I decide the rules here._

The triangle shadow on the floor stirred to life, floating up into the air and manifesting into Bill’s physical form. “I don’t wanna bust a hole in your bubble there, kiddo, but that’s not entirely true. Two can play at this game!” To demonstrate, the triangle snapped his fingers, and the floorboards cracked open to reveal a hellish abyss below.

Dipper groaned. “Would you just go away already!”

“Why would I? With you back, I finally have someone to play with.”

Dipper focused his attention on the floor, replacing the floorboards with new ones, if only to prove to himself that he still had a fraction of control over this nightmare. Over himself.

“Why me? Why don’t you bother someone else?” he asked.

The dream demon shrugged. “You tell me: you’re the one summoning me, kid.”

Dipper bit his lip. “I—I’m not. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Curiosity. You want to know the truth. More than you realize.”

“What I want is for you to disappear.”

Bill laughed. “You have no idea what you want, kid. Isn’t that why you’re back here? Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

“Oh, bite me, you disfigured corn chip,” Dipper bristled.

Another laugh. “My, someone’s in a mood. What, college not working out for ya?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Dipper muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “No, it’s great—It’s none of your business, anyway!”

“Anyone with an eye can tell you’re lying to yourself, kid.” His eye narrowed. “About a lot of things.”

“What do you know? We banished you! Destroyed you. You’re just a figment of my imagination! And don’t give me that ‘you can’t lie to your own subconscious’ bullshit. You’re not back. And you’re not the representation of all my inner thoughts. Evil triangle or my subconscious—either way, you’re an unreliable narrator! There is no way I’d believe a word you say.”

“Oh, Pine Tree. You should know better than to underestimate me. You were always the smarter one out of the bunch. I mean, Sixer was a genius, but even he got fooled so easily. Destroyed? Please. Give a guy  _some_  credit, will you?”

Dipper’s mouth went dry. “I don’t believe you. You’re not real. You  _can’t_  be.”

“I don’t need you to believe me, kid. That’s the beauty of being me! It doesn’t matter either way. At the end of the day, I’ll still be right in there with you,” Bill said, pointing to Dipper’s head. “And nobody will believe  _you._ ”

“You’re wrong,” Dipper protested, because Mable would. No matter what.

“Believing and sympathizing are two different things. What did Shooting Star say? Oh, right—’ _You just need time to manage…It’ll sort itself out eventually.’_ Seven years… Geez. I must have left quite an impression on you. Missed me much, did ya?” His voice went coy. “Admit it: you missed me!”

“I really didn’t,” Dipper said, feeling increasingly exasperated. The past seven years had been an agonizing circle of nightmares and obsession. He’d barely slept—every time he did, he was back in the middle of the apocalypse, powerless to stop it. All because he had missed something. He became obsessed with finding loopholes, other ways Bill could enter the human realm. He’d tried so hard to find some fool-proof way to incapacitate him for good. He’d prepared for it, spent every waking hour he could spare to find out more about Bill’s origins and weaknesses. Enough to fill a journal. And so he had.

“Well. You’ve sure been busy, haven’t you?” Bill said, as if reading Dipper’s mind. 

Dipper panicked. Bill shouldn't be able to see his thoughts—he’d taken all the precautions! He’d incrypted his thoughts, even trained to withstand mental intrusions.

Pull the brakes. _Calm down._ So what if Bill could read his mind? This wasn’t real.

It was a small comfort. Real or not, it still felt like an intrustion. His thoughts laid bare and made fun of.

Damnit, even in his dreams he still couldn’t get the last word. Not when Bill already knew what he was going to say, and the things he chose not to.

He was struck by a weird realization. What if this really was all in his head? What if it did turn out that Bill was never coming back? Then all the sleepless nights would have been for nothing. All that research, paranoia… maybe he really was just crazy. Like a soldier returned from war, convinced that battle had followed him home. Shame stole over him. _It's still better than him being back._ To think anything else would be selfish.

He thought of the journal— _his_  journal—tucked away under his mattress. He’d been scared Mable would see it… afraid she’d be… disappointed? Scared for him? Angry? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t feel like dealing with any of those emotions right now. He didn’t like to think about what his secrecy meant—hiding it away like a junkie hid drugs, knowing it was wrong but still wanting it for himself. He hated the possessiveness that stirred whenever he thought about sharing the journal with Mable. They used to share everything, or well, most things. Everything significant. But he told himself this was different. They'd thrown the other journals into the bottomless pit, hoping never to see them again. In a way, it was an unspoken pact between them: to never use the journals again. The journals had started the whole mess to begin with, Dipper knew that. And he still didn't want to give it up. 

Because he knew Bill was still out there.

The thought came to him before he had a chance to stop it. His instincts told him he was right; it wasn't paranoia, it was experience. His therapist had suggested that a part of him  _wanted_ Bill to come back. To prove himself. To reassure himself he wasn't crazy. 

A sound theory.

But that didn't explain why he felt he needed to hide the journal. Why he'd rather burn it than risk anyone else seeing it.

No, he definitely wasn’t ready to delve into what those thoughts implied—it was a rabbit hole of possibilities he didn't want to consider.

Bill circled him in the air, that annoyingly taunting tone in his voice.  
“All that for  _me?_  Wow, kid. I would feel flattered if it wasn’t so embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” Dipper muttered. His cheeks burned. _One of these days I’m gonna turn you into a Dorito and eat you._  

“Oh, Pine Tree—this is why you’re my favourite twin! Even when I’m not actively torturing you, you do it for me! You could have stayed away—but you can’t get enough, can you? It’s a dangerous road you’re walking down. You should turn back before it’s too late—wait, what am I saying? Knock yourself out, kid!”

“Dipper!” someone called. “Dip-Dip! Bro! Helloooo!”

_Mable._

Relief pooled in his stomach.

“You should probably get that,” said Bill. “See you around, kid! Watch your back, 'cause I'll be watching yours!”

Dipper opened his eyes to see Mable looming over him, a bucket of water in her hands.

“Oh, you’re awake!” she said, with equal amounts of relief and disappointment. She lowered the bucket. “Man, you slept like you were in a coma. I was worried you'd turn into Sleeping Beauty. Well, apart from the beauty-thing. No offense, Dip!”

Dipper groaned. Sleeping Beauty might not be entirely off. His entire body felt like lead, and the edges of his mind numb with a drowsy haze. He'd overslept, all right. “What time is it?”

“It’s noon, already!" Mable exclaimed, tugging the covers from him. "Come on, I wanna go on an adventure!”

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His gaze fell to the triangle shape on the floor.

Bill was wrong. It wasn’t that Dipper couldn’t stay away—coming back to Gravity Falls may be the only way for him to get closure, to move on.

Bill could pretend to understand human behaviour, but he didn’t. Couldn't. He was a demon. Great eyesight didn't necessarily give him the ability to understand what he was seeing. He may psychoanalyse and interpret—it didn’t mean his interpretation was the correct one. 

Bill had said _Dipper_  had been the one summoning Bill into the mindscape. What the hell was that supposed to mean? How would that even be possible? He'd done nothing to summon Bill. In fact, Bill was the last person he wanted to see in his dreams. Sure, he'd thought about him... that was unavoidable! The guy was evil incarnate, for crying out loud. How could he not think about him? 

_Why am I even thinking about this at all? There’s no point. He’s dead. It doesn't matter what dream-version of him said, it didn't actually happen!_

And yet, something still felt off.

Usually, his nightmares would be just that. Nightmares. A recollection of the terrible events they'd experienced. Alternatively, a retelling where he failed because he was lacking somehow. But this dream was different. 

Somehow, his head had felt clearer in the dream than it did now that he was awake.

It was weird. Too weird.

Perhaps an adventure with Mable would set his mind straight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little did Dipper know, there was nothing straight about this story. 
> 
> Please look forward to the continuation.  
> As always, thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting: you are awesome!
> 
> *Tips hat*


End file.
